


21-Gun Goodbye

by notvelma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Forgiveness, M/M, Military, Original Fiction, Original Slash, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ben’s brother Tommy dies while serving overseas, Ben isn’t sure how to cope. Things are made worse when Russ – the guy who Ben blames for Tommy's death – shows up begging for forgiveness, and Ben isn't sure that he wants to give it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	21-Gun Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my Livejournal [http://aubreyfrog.livejournal.com/65771.html].  
> It gets a little porny.

The funeral was well over a month ago, but Tommy's unit is finally shipping home today. Mom went to wait at the airport for them to arrive – says she can't blame any of them for what happened to Tommy. Says they deserve a warm welcome home. Fuck that. If it wasn't for the fucking army, Tommy would still be alive. He'd be getting his degree in Biochemistry instead of lying six feet underground. I hate the fucking military and the fucking war and everything. 

I took the day off work for a three-day weekend, but I'm just sitting around the house, purposely not watching the news. I already know that it's just some stupid tribute to the troops, and they're supposed to have live footage of them as they arrive at the airport to greet their loved ones. Everyone's probably crying and saluting and fucking stupid shit like that. Fuck that. Fuck all of them. 

There's a dent in the wall in the living room where I punched it. I didn't cry when I found out. I just punched shit – mostly the wall, but I broke also my back door from slamming it so hard. Good thing I've got a lot of land and no close neighbors, 'cause I threw shit, too. Rocks and shit. Didn't help much. Tommy's still dead. 

And I feel like shit, too, because when he was alive, I hated him. We used rag on each other, but I hated him and how he was Mom's favorite – smart and good and wholesome. He joined the army to save people. Dumbass.

*

The sun's beginning to set, so I start contemplating dinner. I hate cooking, but maybe I can have a sandwich or something. I'm checking the fridge when the doorbell rings. Thinking it's Mom coming to check on me after the ordeal with the troops, I answer it.

It's not Mom; it's a bearish, red-headed guy in fatigues. _Russ._

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl. I want to slam the door in his face, or kick him, or scream, but I can't bring myself to do it. 

"Ben –" he starts, and I hate that his stupid voice still stirs something in my stomach, even after everything. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

This time, I actually do slam the door in his face – or try to, but Russ blocks the door with his enormous body. He's got six inches of height and at least a hundred pounds on me – maybe more, now that he's been over in Afghanistan. I bet he's got no body fat left. 

"Sorry won't bring Tommy back, so don't even fucking try," I snarl. Since I can't push him out the door, I retreat, taking steps backward until I'm in line with the staircase. I put my hand on the banister. 

Russ uses this to his advantage, stepping inside and shutting the door. 

There are too many things I want to say to him, but all I can manage is a pathetic – "You were supposed to protect him."

Russ has the decency to look a little guilty. He takes a couple steps toward me, but I maintain the distance by backing up again. I don't want him to try to hug me or some shit. Fuck him.

"Don't you think I tried? Jesus, Ben. We were right there, side by side, through everything. I wouldn't let him out of my sight!" he snaps at me. Then he lowers his voice. "I didn't want to let you down," he admits.

I can't help thinking about when we were kids and it was Tommy and Russ, so close they were practically brothers. It was always "hey Ben, keep an eye on Tommy and Russ, will you?" and "Ben, keep those boys out of trouble." By high school, I was big brother in name only. Tommy had shot up to six foot two, and Russ – well, I had to remind myself that he was three years younger than me, and my brother's best friend at that. Sometimes, he'd flex his arms just right and I couldn't think straight. I'd had dreams about him, too, and ended up feeling like a pervert over it. 

"You should have done better," I say, shaking the thoughts from my head. "I knew he shouldn't have gone in the first place. He should be in college right now," I remind Russ. I think about the woman that Tommy won't marry, the kids that he'll never had, the house he'll never buy. "It should have been me. He had so much ahead of him, and I'm just a stupid grease monkey. What the fuck do I have to live for? It's not like I'm gonna get married or have kids." It wasn't supposed to be this way. Tommy should have been alive. He could have mourned my death and then moved on with his life. 

"Don't say that," Russ pleads. "God, I miss him like hell, too, and every day I think I should have been doing a better job, but fuck. I mean, it's war, you know, and I can't fucking bring him back, okay?" His eyes are wet with tears and his cheeks are getting red, too. 

Disgusted, I turn away from him and walk into the kitchen. I can hear him following me, but I ignore it for now. I can't stand it – any of it. If Tommy's not coming back, then I want to get rid of this stupid ache in my chest. It hurts, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to fill it up with anything else. 

I'd been planning to eat, but my appetite is gone. I open the fridge and peer inside. Nothing appeals to me, so I close it up again. Russ is leaning against the counter like he fucking belongs here. I hate the stupid camouflaged fatigues that he's wearing. 

"Couldn't you fucking put some regular clothes on?" I growl at him. "Or did you have to wear those stupid things because you knew it would piss me off?" 

Russ shrugs, and I watch his tongue dart out and lick a path across his lips like he's provoking me. This is absolutely the wrong time for everything, but I want to rip his clothes off – partly because I don't want to see anymore goddamn army camouflage, and partly because I want him to be naked so he can fuck me so hard that I can't think anymore. Maybe then I'll forget everything, forget that Tommy's gone and forget the fucking hole in my chest. I don't want to think about my dead brother anymore. 

"I talked to your mom, and she told me how upset you were. You haven't even answered her phone calls, and I need to see you, to beg for forgiveness," he says, and he sounds so pathetic. I hate him more than anything else in the world right now. I hate him and I want to fuck him and nothing makes sense to me anymore. If Tommy were here, I wouldn't even be having these reckless thoughts.

Naw, that's a lie. I'd still have the thoughts. I'd always had these feelings for Russ – ever since high school, anyway – but I'd never wanted to act on them before. I mean, fuck, of course I was the big brother who screwed up all the time. I was the one that caused trouble, the one that made mistakes and fucked up and did things that I shouldn't have. I was the one who'd experimented with drugs, who'd gotten drunk when still in high school, the one who had screwed around with the wrong people. I was always the one that made mistakes, and one more reckless thing wasn't going to stand out, was it? 

"My mother doesn't know shit," I tell him. "And I don't fucking care about what you want from me. I'm not gonna fucking forgive you about anything! You let my brother die!" I tell him. I'll never be able to forgive him for that. My brother – the one person in my life who cared about me, who looked up to me, even if I didn't give two shits about him – was dead, and it was all the fault of Russ, his supposed best friend. "I hate you." 

Before Russ can respond to what I'm staying to him, I step forward, closer and closer, watching him back into the counter as I approach. Russ clearly isn't trying at all, because I manage to trap him with a hand on either side of his body, palms flat on the countertop. There is barely space between us, enough for a breath, maybe, but I can feel his heat and his hard body underneath my arms. He doesn't move except to breathe, but I still want to tear him out of his clothes. If I release him, will he try to escape? Somehow I doubt this, because he could push me off if he wants to. I'm barely using any energy at all to hold him there, but still he doesn't make any effort to get away from me. 

"What do you want from me, Ben?" Russ asks. "I don't know what else to do. I want Tommy back as much as you do, and I can't bring him back anymore than you can. He can't come back, and I'm fucking sorry that I let him die. The stupid bomb killed him, and I hate it, and I never wanted to let you down. I wish..." He let out a breath. "I wish I could have gone back and never let him go there. Tommy wanted to help people, and he did that, okay? Even if you didn't see it, he did. He helped people and he saved lives, and—" He shakes his head from side to side, slowly. I don't know what he's rambling on about, because it barely makes any sense to me. 

"Shut up." I demand. I take my hand off the counter and put it flat on his chest. 

He's holding his breath, but I can feel his heart beating faster. His whole body is tensed up underneath mine, and I wonder for a moment if this is a bad idea. 

Then I don't even let myself think about it anymore, leaning forward and licking my way into his mouth. That he allows me to do so without pushing me away or asking me to stop only indicates to me that he's been thinking about this as much as I have. He wants it, too. We're both fucked up.

His hand curls around the back of my head as he draws me closer, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue along mine. His mouth is hot and wet and tastes the way I'd always imagined. The kiss is softer than it had been to start with, but I think that's because my knees are weakening with every move that Russ makes. 

My hand is still on his chest and his heart beat is still beating like a drum. He's warm, too, and I wonder how hot his body is underneath those clothes; he's probably an inferno, and I can't wait to touch every inch of skin. If only I could find out how to take the stupid clothes off --

Russ breaks the kiss off, breathing heavily. "Oh, Ben," he says, and I hate the way his eyes are looking into mine, like he's in love with me or something. Oh god, I don't want to see that look and especially not from him.

"Don't start with that," I warn him. "Jesus, Russ. A fucking kiss doesn't mean --"

He doesn't let me finish, though, pulling me forward by the lapels for another kiss - this one rough and hard. My brain goes south and I can't focus on anything except trying to grab a hold of him to keep myself steady. 

I'm the one who breaks it off the next time. "I fucking hate you," I growl at him.

He looks somewhat taken aback. "Don't say that," he says softly. "I know you don't hate me. You don't, and I don't hate you. Ben, you're the only person I've ever loved, and..." He takes a deep breath. "If you let me think about this too much, I'm gonna tell myself that it's a bad idea and I'm going to leave."

I pull back, out of his reach. "Good. Leave. I don't want you anywhere near me." I don't know who I think I'm fooling. I'm hard, and all I can think about is the two of us getting naked and doing it right here on the kitchen floor. My bed would be more comfortable, but right now I really don't care about comfort. I want to screw Russ until he doesn't feel anything else but my body against his. He will never be able to have sex with anyone else ever again - not after me. 

"I'll take these off," he says, and reaches for the fastener on his top. His eyes are watching me, but when I don't object, he keeps going until he takes the jacket off all the way. Underneath is a black t-shirt stretched tight across his muscular chest and displaying his thick biceps. 

I swallow. "This is a bad idea." I can't help thinking that I must be breaking some kind of law, watching a soldier peel off his uniform, and thinking about having sex with him. "Russ, you should go." It's all I can think to say because all the anger, the frustration, everything else has given way to untamed lust and an intense, uncontrollable urge to rip the rest of his clothes off.

Russ watches me as he starts pulling his boots off. Clearly he's not going to take my advice, and I'm making no move to get him to leave, either. I'm just watching as he drops the boots on the floor and starts on his pants. My mouth goes dry as he reveals thick, tree-trunk legs covered with light red hair. The only thing covering him up now – besides that black t-shirt – is a pair of white briefs and white socks. 

Then he crosses the room and cups my face into his hands, pressing wet kisses to my lips and making me feel like some kind of swooning woman from Gone with the Wind. It's the reality of getting something that's only ever happened in my dreams, and it's threatening to tear me apart. 

My hands push at his shirt, feeling for hard muscles, even as Russ's fingertips curl into my hair. He kisses me like he's been waiting his whole life to do this, and the thought breaks my fucking heart. He's not supposed to want me as badly as I want him. If he didn't, though, would we still be doing this?

He pulls back from me again, resting our foreheads together. "Bedroom still in the same place?" he asks me softly. All I can do is nod before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs to my bedroom. I realize that taking the time to go upstairs to a bed is just adding more significance to this moment than I'm really sure I want. But I don't object.

Closing the door behind us, Russ pulls me close again, his hands going straight to the button on my jeans. He looks at me, like maybe he thinks I'm going to object now, with his left hand cupping my dick through my pants and his right hand fiddling with the button.

"Just get on with it," I tell him, narrowing my eyes, "or I'll do it myself. Hell, maybe I'll just fuck myself while I'm at it. How's that?" 

He laughs. "Do you always get this sarcastic when you're going to get laid, or am I just that lucky?" he asks. He pecks a quick kiss to my lips, still smiling as he finally unbuttons my pants, dragging the zipper down and then stripping my pants off. I hold onto his shoulders as he helps my legs out, tossing the pants onto the ground. Then he fucking picks me up – because he can do that, with his unfairly huge muscles – and drops me on my back on the bed, climbing on top and pressing my wrists into the mattress. 

"I know you don't want to hear any of this sappy shit, but I've got you trapped now," he says with a wink. He bends his face close to mine, but not close enough for a kiss. "I wish that I had done better for Tommy, but I'm doing you one better right here. I love you, all right? I know it's fucking stupid, and maybe you don't believe me, but I've loved you since I was like twelve or something. I want this more than anything else in the world right now." He rolls his hips against mine, and fuck that is not fair.

The only sound that leaves my mouth is an involuntary moan, which brings a smile to Russ's face. I can only think of twelve year old Russ wanting me, of high school Russ and all the times he would make fun of how much smaller I was, when we'd be standing too close, or he'd look at me in a weird sort of way. Was that him in love with me? How had I never noticed anything like that? Maybe I'd been too busy thinking of how much a pervert I was for wanting my kid brother's best friend.

Russ releases my hands and uses his hands to push my shirt up and over my head. Before I can do anything, he's kissing down my scrawny chest, silly little kisses that make my heart flutter. The pang in my chest is almost too much, but then he pulls my underwear off and tosses that on the floor. 

"Jesus!" I yelp when his hot, wet mouth closes over my dick. 

Russ smiles up at me. "Not quite," he says, and then takes my cock in his mouth again, doing things that I had never thought him capable of. Jesus, Russ is a soldier in the army and he has my dick in his mouth. I don't even want to think about where he learned to do that.

I can't keep my eyes open for what his tongue is doing, so I just lie back, hands fisted in the sheets as he takes me deeper. "Oh god," is all that I can say, amidst a lot of heavy breathing. "Russ, oh Jesus, fuck yes." I know I sound like a porno, but it's really hard to think of something new and different to say when your dick is in somebody's mouth.

Then everything tightens and I can only give a brief warning of a needy "Russ, dammit," before I come. I'm too busy staring at the ceiling with stars behind my eyes to even see whether he swallows or not, but I don't think it would really matter to me either way if he did. 

He crawls up beside me on the bed and I realize that he's still wearing his t-shirt and underwear, and fuck does it feel weird being the only entirely naked one. 

"Are you going to keep those on?" I ask. 

Russ shrugs, kind of grinning at me, but then he shucks off his shirt, shimmies out of his underwear and lies naked on his back in what is probably supposed to be an inviting pose. He looks kind of stupid, though, and I push at his chest.

"You're a dumbass, Russ," I tell him.

He shrugs, and then pulls me in for another kiss, his tongue pressing into my mouth. He kisses a lot more than most guys I've been with and it's kind of weird for me, but I like it because he's so good at it – making me weak in my knees and I'm not even standing. Then his hands are cupping my ass, drawing me in closer, and I know what he wants. 

It only takes a brief moment to get a condom on him, but my hands take a little bit longer, feeling the weight of his cock in my hands, memorizing how it feels. I don't ever want to forget a single moment of this – not his lube-covered fingers preparing me, not his kisses on my neck, or the way he holds my waist as I lower myself onto him. 

Watching his face as he moves inside of me is one of the best moments of the entire thing. Russ keeps his eyes and his mouth open, soft little grunts coming out every time I come down on him, or when I wriggle just right. It occurs to me that I never want to do this with anyone else ever again. I'm never going to be able to have sex with another guy without picturing Russ's flaming red hair, his broad chest and his thick muscular arms – or those blue eyes looking into mine, his confessions of love. Watching Russ's face as he reaches orgasm is going to be forever engraved into my mind as the sexiest thing I've ever seen. 

After he's tossed the condom out, I find myself curling into his side, letting his big arms wrap around me. I can't even think back to an hour ago, to thirty minutes ago and all the pent up anger and rage and frustration that had built up inside me.

"It wasn't your fault," I tell him quietly. "Tommy was –" And I stop, feeling myself choke up as I think about my brother. "You did what you could, and I'm sorry for blaming you." I take his face into my hands, looking into those blue eyes and seeing what I should have seen all along – the same sorrow and anger that I'd been feeling in my own heart. Russ had lost someone, too, and I'd been too much of a dick to even realize that he might have been hurting, too. 

His eyes stay trained on my face. "Ben, it's okay. I don't blame you for being angry." His hand is on my cheek. "I'll always be here for you, though, and while I don't want to replace your brother, I want to have a part in your life, too. I love you, Ben."

I'm aware that he's already said that to me, and I lick my lips. "Me too." It's not nearly the same thing, but right now, it's what I can give him. 

Russ kisses me, sealing the words between us. 

Maybe it's stupid, but I almost think that I can hear Tommy's voice in my ear, saying "Be happy, Ben." It's cheesy as all hell, but I can't help smiling at it.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheesiest ending EVER. And hey, awkward sex scene FTW.


End file.
